


T’was (Almost) the Night Before Christmas

by sadistically_sweet



Series: The Adventures of 'Little' Sherlock and 'Daddy' John. [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, I'mma make your teeth rot out, Just sweet little babes, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadistically_sweet/pseuds/sadistically_sweet
Summary: A short, (hopefully) sweet little drabble just in time for the holidays.





	T’was (Almost) the Night Before Christmas

“MY’COFF!”

Mycroft Holmes stifled a sigh; “…Indoor voice, Jawn. Please.”

There was a beat pause before he heard his name again, this time in the form of a stage whisper. “ _MY’COFF!!!_ ”

Little smart-arse. 

He could hear Gregory giggling at the other end of the counter, and a faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, darling?”

“He’s ea’ding the dough again!” Jawn whinged.

‘ _At least his voice was back at a normal decibel_ ,’ Mycroft thought…for someone who was standing right at his shoulder, in any case. “It’s fine, Jawn,” he said, the smirk on his face growing. “That’s why he has his own.”

“Bu’d he’s ea’ding han’fulls,” Jawn whinged again, and tugged on Mycroft’s sleeve. “I’ds no’d good for’im!”

The giggling from Gregory’s end of the counter was becoming more evident. Ignoring it, Mycroft finally set down his rolling pin and turned to Jawn, giving him his whole attention. “Jawn, he’s not–”

“He’s too _li’ddol_ ,” Jawn insisted and frowned at Sherlock, who was sitting in his high chair ( an adult-sized booster seat which could be buckled to a regular chair, which made it all the more easy to pull up to the counter so he could be a part of all the fun) and sucking the raw sugar cookie dough from his fingers.  There was still a goodly amount of dough on his tray (and his cheeks, and down his bib, and his chin, and his hair), so he couldn’t have eaten that much. 

Mycroft’s smirk turned into a full smile at the notion that Jawn thought he was anywhere near big enough to call someone else ‘too little’. “He’s fine, Jawn,” Mycroft said again, and reached down to pinch his baby brother’s cheek, leaving behind a smudge of flour. 

Sherlock scrunched his neck and gave Mycroft a beautiful smile that wrinkled the top of his nose adorable. 

“He’s gonna ea’d i’d all…”

“No, he wo–” Mycroft was cut short as Sherlock, ever insistent on proving him wrong no matter his headspace, pulled an admittedly large piece of dough from the pile on his tray and stuff it in his mouth. “…Hm.” 

“Seeeeeeeeeee,” Jawn said smugly, and crossed his arms over his chest as he gloated up at Mycroft. 

“Hush.” Mycroft gathered the rest of the dough from Sherlock’s tray while he was still occupied with getting it off of his fingers, and put it on the counter-top with the rest of their cookie-making mess. “Gregory, be a peach and bring me the bin with all the play-doh in it.”

“Yes, dearest,” replied Greg (who was looking quite smart in his gingerbread man pinny), leaving his bowls of red, green, and white frosting that he’d painstakingly mixed behind as he went to go fetch the play-doh bin.

Jawn eyed the crumbled pile of cookie dough on the counter. “Wha’der you gonna do with tha’d?…”

“Make cookie with it, of course.”

“Ewwwwwww…i’ds go’d him’s spi’d in’nit!”

Mycroft dutifully resisted the urge (and it was a _strong_ one, by God) to imply that Sherlock’s spit wasn’t the lewdest thing Jawn had ever had in his mouth. “It will bake out,” he said dryly. 

“I’ds still g’woss.”

“Then don’t eat them.” Mycroft picked up his rolling pin and quickly flattened the offending dough. “Here, take your cookie cutters and get back to work, or we won’t have cookies enough for Santa.”

Well, that was all the encouragement Jawn needed to hear! He picked up the nearest cookie cutter, a Christmas tree-shaped one, and began punching out tree-shaped blobs of dough. 

Sherlock, having scraped every last bit of dough off his fingers while watching Jawn work, looked to his big brother and held his slobber-covered hands up as if waiting for his turn. “Hm?”

Mycroft smiled and clucked his tongue at him. “Mucky pup…Gregory will be right back with something for you–look, there he is!”

Sherlock craned his neck and, yes indeed! Greg was right behind him with a plastic storage bin full of child-safe clay and the toys to go with it. 

He set it on the table and opened it, and began pulling containers out of it. “…This is gonna be a terrible mess,” Greg said as he glanced the leftover’s bit of chewed-up dough and spit on the baby’s tray.

“That’s what soap and hot water is for, darling.”

Greg grinned and started to pop lids off of all the small tubs. “I love it when you’re like this,” he said, handing Sherlock the green play-doh. 

“Like what?”

“Like the rest of us…in a good mood and not a high-maintenance tit,” Greg said…then squealed loudly and bounced away, rubbing a spot on his bum. “Mean!”

Mycroft laid the wooden spoon back on the counter. “Luckily,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Greg, “I’m in a _good_ mood.” There was a mischievous little gleam in his eye. 

“Cheeky.” Greg kept his backside pointed away from his lover and gave Sherlock the red dough next, then a small plastic rolling pin, and a couple of plastic cookie cutters. “Have at it, munchkin,” he said, giving the baby a kiss on one of the only clean spots on his forehead. 

“Can you say ‘thank you, Gregory’?” Mycroft prompted. He doubted that Sherlock would, being in his Tiny headspace and all, but it was cute to hear him try. 

“G’eck!!” Sherlock waved the rolling pin, and Greg laughed. “Close enough!”

Jawn tugged Mycroft’s sleeve again; “I’sh tha’d e’nuff coo’gies,My’coff?!” 

Mycroft looked over Jawn’s work; “Perfect,” he said, and went to lick the powdered sugar from his sleeve where tiny fingers had been. ‘Fourteen cookies out of one batch; magnificent job, pet,” he added, and watched Jawn’s chest puff up with pride. “Let’s get those on the tray.”

“An’ then de’gorat’de?!?!?!”

“We bake them first–”

“An’ _then_ de’gora’de??!!!”

“–And then we let them cool…”

“Awww.”

“…And _then_ we decorate them.”

“Y’ah!” Jawn whooped, and jumped down off his stool. “I wan’ de’gora’de all’a mines!” 

“There’s enough cookies for everyone to decorate.” 

“Bu’d Sher’yock’s…!”

“Sherlock’s very excited to decorate, too.” Mycroft interrupted. “Where did we put all the candies, darling?”

“Top’o the pantry, love.”

“You’re a peach, dear.”

“I know, sweetcheeks.”

Mycroft ignored the sounds of Jawn gagging and started to walk to the pantry, passing by the baby and his own little mini-bakery set up on his tray, when Sherlock stopped him:

“B’AH!”

“Yes, what is it, “Mycoft cooed down at him. “Are you a busy little baker-bee, hm?”

Sherlock proudly held up a cragged, lumpy piece of red play-doh in the shape of a star. “G’AH!”

Mycroft pressed his hands to his cheeks in over-the-top amazement. “Beautiful! The most wonderful star I’ve ever seen!” 

“Y’AH!” Sherlock leaned forward in his seat, offering Mycroft his star. 

“Perfect.” Mycroft gingerly took it into his hands. “Here, Gregory…take this and put it on the ‘tray’ with the rest.”

“Oh, yeah. On the tray, ‘wink-wink’.”

Mycroft chuckled and, after passing off Sherlock’s ‘cookie’, wiped his hands on his pinny and went into the pantry. 

As he stood on his toes and reached for the bag of brightly-coloured chocolate candies that they’d bought (and hidden) for tonight, Mycroft found himself humming…humming ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, of all things. 

He would have started smiling, if he hadn’t been already. 

Yes, he supposed he was in a good mood tonight. Hard not to be, with everyone–

Shouting came from the kitchen. “MY’COFF!!!”

“Indoor voice.”

“HE’S HI’DDING ME WITH THA’D RO’YYING PIN!!!”

Mycroft bit his lip to stifle a laugh, even as he heard his little brother cackling. 

Yes, a pretty good mood.


End file.
